


pales in comparison to love

by armyofbees



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: ... yeah, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Epistolary, Established Relationship, Letters, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Sort Of, commercial fishing au?, pining except they're already dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:22:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26799514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armyofbees/pseuds/armyofbees
Summary: He pulls an envelope from his pocket — simple white, with the messy scrawl of his hand on the front. He presses it into Ben’s hand and leans in to kiss him slow, because it’s the last time he’ll see him in so long, because he wants to carry this and so many other things with him across the ocean.“Should I open it now?” Ben asks when they pull back, holding up the envelope.“Nah,” Caleb says. “Save it for a rainy day.”Ben smiles and takes a step back. “Come back to me, Brewster.”“See ya in a year, Tallboy,” Caleb says, and that’s it.
Relationships: Caleb Brewster/Benjamin Tallmadge, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	pales in comparison to love

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello hello!
> 
> finally, it's here: the pseudo-prequel to [hello my old heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17236727) that i've been writing for like, a year and a half. i'd like to preface this with one fundamental truth: i did not do any research into commercial fishing in general, or the commercial fishing industry in greenland in particular. i know nothing. please suspend all disbelief. this is about the tenderness, not the reality of fishing trawlers.
> 
> the title is from [Trees](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JV4Wd9aXEZ0) by The Oh Hellos, because i'm horribly predictable. give it a listen, and while you're at it, take a peek at my [tallster playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0nbXKfIUKjQpmSBwDK1xnt?si=3p1_5CxbRKe3cIrqyP_Lxw)!
> 
> as always, many thanks to betwixt, without whom i would never have come up with palo's background of international crime, or akik's exile from both iceland and greenland due to being a busybody. and, you know, they checked my grammar, too.
> 
> enjoy!

The sky is dark and overcast when he wakes up, a dim day for mid-June. The air is humid and everything feels sticky. Ben pulls slowly away from him and groans; Caleb quietly turns the alarm off and lays still, letting his eyes focus on the ceiling above. They’re covered only in sheets and a light sheen of sweat, and that’s what finally propels them out of bed and into the shower.

Caleb doesn’t look at the duffle in the corner of their room as he tugs a shirt on, instead watching Ben through the doorway to the kitchen. He’s making breakfast shirtless, because he’s mean like that.

He smiles when Caleb comes out to greet him and politely turns him down when he offers to help with the food.

“You’ve got a long day ahead of you,” he says simply, pushing him down into a chair with a quick kiss.

Caleb stares at his hands, fiddling. Not just a long day, he thinks, but a long year with no Ben and no anybody. Out there all alone but for the crew and the fish. No communication except letters and maybe a phone call here and there, nothing guaranteeing either of them will be the same when he gets back. A year of doing what he loves, hopefully.

Ben studies him seriously as they leave the apartment and shut Caleb’s bag in the trunk of a taxi. His eyebrows knit together but he glances away when he catches Caleb looking.

“What?” Caleb asks, a hand on the handle of the taxi’s door.

“Just… be safe,” Ben says. “I love you.”

Caleb smiles, opens his mouth to reply, then remembers. “I almost forgot,” he says instead. He pulls an envelope from his pocket — simple white, with the messy scrawl of his hand on the front. He presses it into Ben’s hand and leans in to kiss him slow, because it’s the last time he’ll see him in so long, because he wants to carry this and so many other things with him across the ocean.

“Should I open it now?” Ben asks when they pull back, holding up the envelope.

“Nah,” Caleb says. “Save it for a rainy day.”

Ben smiles and takes a step back. “Come back to me, Brewster.”

“See ya in a year, Tallboy,” Caleb says, and that’s it.

* * *

His plane lands in the Nuuk airport in what would be the evening, except the sun still hangs high. It’ll dip towards the horizon tonight, but it won’t set. The city, meanwhile, sprawls down to the docks in a half-urban, half-cottage kind of blend. Fishing vessels line the port and a lighthouse stands on a ledge overlooking the ocean. Small, colorful houses spread out from the city center and a mountain rises, majestic, across the inlet.

Greenland’s cold even in the summer so Caleb catches a bus into town instead of walking. He pulls gloves on and stuffs his hands in his pockets, trying his best not to look out of place.

He finds a room in a hostel a few blocks from the harbor and sleeps easily after a long day of travel. This morning he was at home, this afternoon in Iceland. And now here. The dorm windows face away from the docks and he watches the city, still lit by the gentle glow of the midnight sun, fall asleep as the night draws on.

There are two days until his ship leaves, so he spends the next morning wandering the city. He takes lunch near the docks, finds a cafe and eats anything but cod because that’s all he’ll be eating for months after. He crumples his empty coffee cup once he’s done and pulls his jacket tighter around him, surveying the ships in the harbor.

Sailors mill about one creaking boat, carrying crates and nets and luggage on and off. The name on the side is chipped and faded, probably straight from the eighties and due for a repaint.

 _“Er du med besætning?”_ asks a passing crewman, a crate hoisted on his shoulder. _Are you with a crew?_ His weathered face is sharp but not unkind.

 _“Jeg er med_ Henriksen,” Caleb replies with a grin, “but my Danish is shit.”

The man returns his smile. “Should pick some up before heading out. When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow,” Caleb says.

The sailor turns to survey the water, squinting into the bleak sun. “Not so good to go today. The waters will be rough. Better luck to you.”

Caleb nods his thanks.

The sailor turns to go and then Caleb’s alone again, watching the water for some sign of turmoil. Waves lap gently against the shore and a cold breeze chills the air, but nothing stirs the dark sea yet.

The sun shines on the ship as the crew loads supplies onto it the next day. Caleb helps a stocky, brisk man named Leon carry an oversized crate aboard, along with his duffle. The cabin belowdecks is cramped but cozy. It’s not glamorous but the bunks allow for some semblance of privacy, which everyone appreciates.

With the ship loaded, they’re given an hour for lunch before they disembark. Caleb buys a sandwich and sits with his legs dangling off the edge of the pier, Leon and a few others lining up beside him. They talk in rapid Danish and Caleb can pick up a word here and there, but mostly he watches a trawler coming in from the ocean and only half-listens.

A warm front rolls in as they find their way back to the ship, and they set off as the afternoon sun shines down bright and cold on the water, turning it white.

* * *

_June 30_

_Ben,_

_Promised I’d write first didn’t I? Just over two weeks on the water now. I realized pretty_ _quick that I should’ve brushed up on my sailor talk before I came out here. You know stuff like_ _Besætning or_ _Paasinngilanga, real basics. Ha. You should hear the languages out here, Tallboy. You’d like it._

_I forgot what it was like when the sun never sets. Haven’t seen anything like this since Alaska. You get used to it pretty quickly but the first few days it’s weird when your watch says 9 but the sun’s still up there. And it’s real nice when they wake you up at 3 am because the sun’s still shining and there’s no one to tell em not to. I think I told you all of this during Alaska too, but somehow I always forget._

_I do love it out here too. Nothing like being on the open sea, you know? And up north it’ll get dark pretty quick, and then I’ll complain about living by flashlights. The fish are alright too even if they smell and sometimes we catch some weird shit. Smart of you to send me with this camera by the way, there’s a picture of a fuck ugly cod somewhere in here for you. Well they called it a cod but I think that’s just because there’s no English word for whatever that is._

_The crew likes to tease me because I’m American and like I said my Danish could use a bit of work. I think they’re full of themselves. Leon says that some people are born used to the cold and that’s why I can’t stand it but personally I think it’s just because it’s COLD. Greenlanders. Really though they’re nice, nicer than those Russians for sure. You remember those letters._

_Anyway not much has happened yet but give it another couple weeks. We’re heading up near the air base and I won’t get your response for a while so try not to worry too much. Once it does get here we’ll have something to talk about. I miss you already but don’t get a big head about it, and tell Mrs. Williams’ cat I say hi. Oh and our friends I guess. Make sure you get out of that apartment too because I know you’ll stay in all day unless Anna invites you somewhere. Take care of yourself for me._

_Love,_

_Caleb_

* * *

Two weeks at sea turns into four, and mid-July is a little warmer despite the fact that they’re much farther north. The seas get choppier as winds pick up mid-week and there are a few sleepless nights before the crew gets used to the rollicking of the ship. During this time they mostly occupy themselves and Caleb reads the book Ben gave him at Christmas, but sometimes they play cards as the sea rolls.

They still talk mostly in Danish or Greenlandic when they’re working, so Caleb’s picked up a few more words here and there, but tonight they’re nice enough to play in English. Poker loses its appeal with nothing to wager, so someone produces two decks of cards and they play Canasta. Whoever’s not playing watches or talks quietly or tries to sleep despite the commotion.

Caleb gets away with reading for a few hands before he’s dragged into the game, because they want to know how Americans play.

“I learned it same as the rest of you,” Caleb protests, but he joins them anyway. Ben would hate it, he thinks, because Ben knows he has a knack for gambling. He sits across from Akik, a broad, quiet man who Caleb likes but finds to be a little too observant. It’s a good thing they’re on the same team, he thinks as he deals.

His hand is alright and he lets habit take over, drawing and laying down cards while watching the other players with lazy eyes. He loses the round.

“So you have family?” Akik asks as Caleb shuffles for the next game. To his left a man named Mads deals.

Caleb raises an eyebrow. It’s the first time someone on the crew has expressed interest in his personal life, and it’s an odd way to start a card game. “Not really,” he says carefully, taking his cards and checking his hand. This conversation leads straight to Ben and honestly, Caleb doesn’t want to talk to Akik about that right now. They go around twice.

Before his next turn Akik says, “You wrote a letter, same as us.” It’s the most forward Caleb’s seen him be and it knocks him off-balance.

“Do you have a family?” he asks as he watches Akik lay down a three.

“Parents and a wife back home. I miss them like hell.”

“Yeah,” Caleb says shortly. It’s his turn. There’s a jack on the discard pile. “We all miss home.” He picks up the jack and lays his hand out on the table. Canasta. “I’m going out. That’s a game.” He stands up before Akik can reply and retreats to his bunk with Ben’s book.

He tries to shake the discomfort but the game’s left him shaky and paranoid. He knows Akik didn’t mean to hit a nerve — he couldn’t have known — but he’s unsettled nonetheless. As he watches them play another round, he feels a little bad.

He’s still a little wary in the morning, and running on an hour of sleep doesn’t help, but Akik shoots him a tired but genial smile the next morning over breakfast and Caleb decides to stop worrying.

* * *

_24 Jul._

_Caleb,_

_I just got your letter yesterday — apparently it takes three weeks to deliver mail from Greenland. Hopefully it won’t be too much longer now that you’ve gone north — and on that count, try not to freeze to death. Don’t let those Greenlanders have anything more to gloat over. Very clever, by the way, sending me a language I can’t read, but Google translate tells me you can’t read that either, so we’re on equal ground. I would love to hear more about Greenlandic and the Danish you apparently don’t speak though. The only language around here is Mrs. Upstairs telling her husband where he can stick it for the third time this week. And it’s Tuesday. I bet you don’t miss our neighbors._

_And yes, you did tell me all that when you were in Alaska, but you know I love hearing you talk. Besides, it’s always interesting hearing about the sun not setting. Imagine ancient people experiencing THAT for the first time._

_On a completely different note, happy fourth! Anna threw a party for it a couple weeks back and everyone told me to send their love. Ed did too, which was weird, but there it is. Sorry Ed. Enclosed is a picture of all of us, completely shitfaced. On the left you can see Abe trying to eat a sparkler while Rob does absolutely nothing about it — all to say that they haven’t changed at all. Terrible and entertaining as ever. We missed you, though. I can’t remember the last time you were home for the fourth. Anyway, I hope that picture makes you smile._

_You know how when you get home sometimes you need a few weeks to adjust to not being on a boat? That’s a bad way of saying that not being at school feels weird. I know I’m still working but every morning I wake up and think, hey, I need to give a lecture on the post-Civil War economy today, are my slides ready? And then I don’t actually have to._

_In other news, Abi says hi from the cafe. She misses you coming in every day to bother me, says you’re charming or something. I told her I wouldn’t tell you that. Mary says hi too and she even knit you something but it’s too bulky to send and I don’t want it getting lost, so I’ll hang onto it for you until you get home. She also told me to stop worrying about you, which is probably good advice, but you know I’ll never follow it. Just take care._

_As for your concerns I have left the apartment and the picture is proof, and I miss you too. Mrs. Williams still can’t keep their cat contained, so she’s been keeping me company, but she leaves some conversation to be desired. I do miss you. Be safe up there where there’s frostbite. I love you._

_Ben_

_(P.S. That is DEFINITELY not a cod. What the hell kind of fish is that? I’m putting this up on our wall. Please send more.)_

* * *

The apartment never stops feeling empty when Caleb is away. Whenever he’s gone, Ben’s life is a dichotomy between never being home and never leaving home. For a few weeks he gets out as often as possible, and then one day he stays home all day and forgets to go to the grocery store even though he’s out of milk and flour.

He’s self-destructing horribly and he knows it, but once school starts and his life makes a little more sense, it’ll be better. Structure has always done him good.

For now, he goes to work and keeps in touch with Anna and takes care of Mrs. Williams’ cat.

Muted sunlight fights its way through the curtains of the living room one morning to where Ben sits on the couch, reading. It’s a warm Saturday and he doesn’t have work, so he’s taking a moment for himself. His phone buzzes on the coffee table.

_Anna: you free?_

_Anna: mary abe and i are going out for lunch :)_

_Anna: rob’s undecided_

_Anna: before you say no ed won’t be there_

Ben smiles faintly. _I don’t hate Ed,_ he texts back, and fifteen minutes later he’s pulling open the door to a Greek restaurant a few blocks away from his apartment. Anna, Abe, Mary, and Rob already have a table and they’re arguing loudly as Ben sits down.

“I’m not saying we can’t do it, I’m saying it doesn’t make sense,” Anna says, pointing in Abe’s direction.

“I liked farming as a kid! I know a lot about it,” he protests. Next to him, Mary shoots Ben a half-desperate, half-apologetic look.

“You also went to law school but that doesn’t make you a good lawyer,” Rob says, in that sort of scathing undertone only he can manage.

“Hello, Ben!” Mary says pleasantly.

Ben smiles and picks up a menu. “Please, don’t let me interrupt. What are we roasting Abe about today?”

Mary’s gaze flattens into a glare as Abe comes to his own defense, but even she’s trying not to laugh. Ben raises his eyebrows apologetically, but both of them know he’s not sorry. Eventually the farming debate is put on hold as they order their food, and once the waiter leaves Mary finally gains control of the conversation.

“So, Ben, how have you been?”

“I’m alright,” he says, unable to stop himself thinking about Caleb. “Looking forward to having something to do come September.”

Anna groans dramatically. “God, don’t remind me.”

“You love your job,” Abe points out.

“Only if we’re ignoring the fact that it starts at seven o’clock every morning,” she says. “But sure, the kids are great or whatever.”

Ben chuckles and listens to them bicker for a bit, making occasional sympathetic eye contact with Mary because while he’s a bit of a bastard himself, he knows that wrangling his friends can be exhausting. Thank God she’s responsible, at least.

Their presence is comforting and he loves them, but seeing them together makes him miss Caleb all the more. They ask about him a bit and that’s alright, but mostly Ben misses having someone to just be with. He shakes the thought before he can kill the mood too much, but he’s so tired of only having Caleb here a few months out of the year and of missing him so much it aches.

Ben heads home an hour later, both happier and a little more bitter than before. He digs in his pocket for his keys and pauses in front of his apartment door. Mrs. Williams’ cat is pacing the hall to his left, meowing to be let back in. _Yeah,_ Ben thinks, _I get that._

* * *

They make landfall in a small village after two and a half months at sea. It’s twilight when they finally disembark; the sun’s begun to set by now, but darkness never really takes. A few streets from the harbor there’s a shoddy little convenience store where Caleb buys a new pen and more paper, and across the street from that is a bar that the rest of the crew has flocked to. Caleb steps out of the store and into the street, folding the paper and tucking it in his pocket. A foot from the bar door he stops short; to his right, jutting out from the dark wood siding, is a phone box.

He checks his pockets even as he steps towards the phone — he has enough change left over for a call. Ben should be off work by now, maybe home already, maybe…

Apprehension claws at his throat as the old phone rings, grainy and distant in his ear. One, two, and the neon lights in the bar window illuminate his shaky hands.

“Hello?” comes Ben’s voice, tinny and garbled, and Caleb could melt.

“Tallboy,” he says, “hey.”

“Caleb?” He can hear Ben’s smile through the phone. “Caleb — God, I didn’t know—”

“It’s good to hear your voice,” Caleb chuckles. “Missed your…” _everything,_ he doesn’t say. He lets the sentence hang, and Ben doesn’t pick it up.

“Me too,” he says quietly, after a time. “Letters are… never the same.”

“How’ve you been?” Caleb asks abruptly, partly just to hear Ben talk.

“I’m fine,” Ben says dismissively. “Same as always. School starts this week, you know how it is. But how about you?”

“Same as always.” Caleb smiles. “We’ve stopped off in this _tiny_ town to restock and everyone else is grabbing a drink. Figured I’d give you a call as long as there was a working phone.”

“You got my last letter?”

“Yeah, the post came in a week back or so, but I didn’t get the chance to reply before we landed, so here I am. I loved that picture, by the way. Those four haven’t killed each other yet?”

Ben laughs. “Not yet. I can’t say for sure that they haven’t killed someone _else_ though.”

“You can never be sure with Rob,” Caleb agrees. “How’s Annie?”

“Not excited to go back to school. At least, not excited to wake up at five every morning again.”

“But you are, of course.”

“Of course.”

The payphone beeps and Caleb feeds it another coin. They’re silent for a moment, weighed down by the wordless feeling neither of them wants to put a voice to. Something beeps in the background of Ben’s call. “That’s dinner,” he says and there’s some shuffling. “Hang on, I’ll—”

“No, that’s fine,” Caleb says. “I’m running out of krones anyway. Guess I was just too lazy to write another letter.”

“Don’t be stupid,” says Ben. “I missed your voice too.”

Caleb sniffs. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s alright. You should join your crew,” Ben says. “Beat them at a few hands of cards for me.”

“Yeah, but nobody out here loses quite like you do.” The phone beeps. “I’ve gotta go. Tell everyone I say hi. Even Ed.”

“Even Ed,” Ben echoes, half-mocking. “Bye, Brewster. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The line goes dead and Caleb closes his eyes, leaning back against the cold wall of the bar and feeling the weight of the ocean between them crash through him like the tide.

* * *

_14 Sept._

_Caleb,_

_First of all, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I was caught up and couldn’t write this sooner, and I’m sure you won’t get it for weeks, but I promise I’m drinking to your health, and I baked you honorary birthday cookies._

_That phone call counted as a letter, right? I assume so — I haven’t gotten a response to my last letter and I felt like writing. More accurately, I just finished grading the first papers of the year and I’m taking a break. One kid wrote that Cornwallis was the first Secretary of State and while I feel bad making fun of students most of the time… I need a moment for that one._

_I realized as I was reading that I’m already gearing up for finals week. Is that weird? It feels like I’m cheating the kids or something like that. You’ll probably tell me I’m being stupid, but I’m still going to ask. Sometimes it feels like everything is happening too fast and too slow at the same time._

_Good news, by the way: they’re renovating that building across the street, the one that we hate with the awful stucco. I pray to God they paint it a different color too, because I’d like to open the curtains without wanting to shoot myself one of these days. They won’t start until spring though, which means June is probably going to be noisy. Joy. But hey, at least you’ll be home to see it._

_Speaking of which, Abi misses you. She says it’s because I sulk when you’re away (I don’t) and once her boyfriend gets home from Canada she won’t be able to stand it anymore. I think it might be her way of saying “Why does our best paying customer keep leaving” but she cares, I swear. Anna also sends her love from school and I’m assuming that means it’s from the rest of them too. I haven’t had the chance to see everyone in a bit but don’t worry! I HAVE seen Ed, and I told him what you said. Thanks, Caleb, for making that a conversation that I had to have. Unfortunately for you though, I’ve decided that he’s alright._

_I keep hearing or seeing things that make me think of you. Like sometimes it’s a painting or a map and sometimes it’s something like a lampshade, but this is all a very long-winded way of saying I bought a mini-globe the other day because it has every city in Greenland labeled. I think this is why we can’t afford a car yet. This is also a long-winded way of saying, again, that I miss you._

_Be safe and call again when you can. I love you._

_Ben_

* * *

September turns to October, the days get shorter, and snowfall comes. Hours of dark drag on before the sun rises, sitting lower on the horizon with each passing day. They’re mostly trawling at this point, catching whatever excess they can as they head back down the coast to Nuuk and the ocean freezes over behind them.

They’ll follow the Canadian coast until December, then spend the two weeks around Christmas grounded, letting the crew enjoy the holidays and avoiding the worst of the winter chill. For now, the long, dark hours are passed with a mixture of hard work and waiting as a dreary melancholy settles over the ship.

There will be sun for just a few more days at this rate before it sets for the winter, only rising for a couple hours at a time in Nuuk — the farthest south they’re going to get all year.

Caleb’s on break with Mads one morning, the sun peeking hesitantly over the far horizon, when he asks, “How about a picture?”

Mads gives him a look, squinting into the meager light. “A picture? For what?”

“For nothin’,” Caleb replies, doing his best to lean casually on the gunwale. “Just the sun’ll be gone soon and I don’t have enough pictures of this place. Plus, you guys aren’t so bad, so I thought it’d be nice to get a picture of the crew.”

Mads shrugs, taking a sip from his water bottle.

“You’re better off asking for _who,”_ says Akik, the bane of Caleb’s existence, passing by out of nowhere and hauling a net. They trade glances, Caleb shooting him a flat glare.

Mads chuckles. “Alright then, Brewster, for who?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Caleb mutters. “Never mind then, wouldn’t want to scare anyone with that ugly mug anyway.”

Mads scoffs at him, toasting with his water as Caleb turns to leave and make himself useful. Ever since Akik opened this whole line of inquiry over Canasta, it’s been pursued by most all of the crew. The leading theories appear to be that he’s married to royalty, on the run from the Russian government, or under witness protection. That last theory was brought up when a smart, scrappy man named Palo, having imbibed one too many drinks, suggested he’d been in on an assassination scheme that targeted the Prime Minister of Iceland.

Caleb drifts about the deck for a little bit before he bites the bullet and goes to help Akik sort out the net. He grabs a frayed corner and looks at Akik reproachfully. “Thanks for that.”

“You’ll tell us eventually,” says Akik dismissively, tossing Caleb another corner.

Caleb catches it and pulls it towards himself, unraveling the net. “So stop asking.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Akik asks, and Caleb just shakes his head.

The next day the sun doesn’t rise until well after ten, and not even Leon’s watery coffee can fend off the lethargic darkness. Caleb watches it arc lazily through the sky for most of the day. As lunch ends he gives Mads a pleading look, hoping the awkwardness of yesterday has faded.

Mads looks back, heaving a sigh. “I’m fine with it, Brewster, but why are you asking me?”

“You’re better with the cabin crew,” Caleb offers cheekily. He folds his hands and smiles. “Wrangle ’em for me?”

He can spot the moment when Mads caves. “There’s a word for men like you,” he says as he pushes back his chair and stands.

“Charming?”

“Insufferable.”

So he gets his photograph. In a few days’ time the sun doesn’t rise at all, and the ship coasts slowly through chronic twilight. A sort of homesickness tugs at his gut, a longing for something and for someone, that Caleb can’t — or won’t — quite put a name to.

* * *

_October 28_

_Ben,_

_First of all, how could you tell me you got me a globe and not even send me a picture? Second, as much as I really want to encourage you we do need to save money so stop spending. I can’t believe it. You’ve turned me responsible, you bastard._

_You seem happy at school though. God knows you were probably tearing yourself apart with nothing to do. Still try and take care of yourself, I’ve heard going outside sometimes can be nice since it doesn’t get nearly as cold down there as it does out here. You ask me about finals every year by the way. It’s not weird. You ask Anna too and she just tells you that you’re fine even if no other teachers are as stressed about it as you are right now. Anyways shut up about it because it’s been three years since you started asking and you never needed to worry in the first place. If you couldn’t manage it you wouldn’t still be in the job, and you know that. Take a breath, Tallboy._

_And I know you don’t want me to ask this but you also know I’m going to. You’re still working two jobs? You don’t have to defend yourself to me and I know you can handle it but even you need a break sometimes. Even though you don’t need it tell Abi I said to look out for you and that I miss her coffee. Leon can’t brew anything for shit and it’s all straight black, I swear I’ll stop drinking it once the sun comes up for spring. It’s set for the winter so it’s all dark now except down on the southern coast._

_I noticed the light was going a few days ago though so I got a picture of everyone before it got dark. Took some convincing but everyone’s there! On my left’s Palo who I forgot to tell you about. I remember thinking you two would get along because he’s the one who got drunk, stood on a table, got talking about Polish politics, and no one could shut him up. Did you know he’s not even from Poland? What a guy._

_Anyway I don’t know when I’ll get to call again because we’re heading back down the coast and won’t be stopping off for a while except a couple weeks in December and January. I’ll try to get to you then so keep an eye out._

_Love, Caleb_

_(P.S. Thank baby Jesus about that building but honestly I wish they’d just tear it down. Get it over with. Drink to the destruction of stucco for me.)_

_(P.P.S. HA! I knew you’d get to like him. Ed’s not so bad and you’re gonna hate this but he reminds me of you sometimes. Good man, Tallboy.)_

* * *

_19 Nov._

_Caleb,_

_It’ll have passed by the time you get this but happy Thanksgiving. I’m heading back to my dad’s on Wednesday to celebrate and I’ll tell him you said something nice. You know, I think he’s just afraid of all the leather jackets you own. It’s an uncanny number of jackets. Whatever the case, stay safe and I hope you’re having a good time._

_We already had Friendsgiving this past weekend, which I still hold is a stupid name, but given I can’t think of an alternative… You know. Everyone was there, plus Rob’s dad and Simcoe (I have no idea who invited him), which was unbelievably awkward. The tension was palpable, as they say — I think Anna was about to burst a blood vessel the entire time. You would’ve loved it. I missed having you there._

_I’m glad you’re friends with the crew, by the way! They look nice. And yes, I agree about Palo, you’ll have to introduce us sometime. I have to say, that’s kind of a great picture. Only about half of you are smiling and that guy on the far right looks like he’s about to launch himself directly into the sea, but I love it. It’s going on our wall next to that terrifying cod._

_We had a test last Friday (and by we I mean my students), and after they finished we did some trivia. Now the kids are all wondering why I have such a profound knowledge of Arctic fishing, so thank you. You remember having teachers that you didn’t really know, but they knew a really weird and terrifying assortment of things and you respected them for that? That’s me now. Except it’s just because my boyfriend is a sailor and I like reading useless fact anthologies. Is that all teachers are? I’m sending myself into an existential crisis._

_Because you mentioned it, yes, I am working two jobs, and you’re right, I don’t have to defend myself to you, but I promise I’ll be fine. You’re right that I can handle it, and anyway we have to start saving somehow. Don’t worry about me. I’m supposed to be worried about YOU, you’re the one stuck on a boat for a year._

_That said, this might be a bad time to mention that I finally caved last month and I bought cat food. If you get back and we suddenly own a cat, it’s just that Mrs. Williams is so fucking old and so, SO bad at petcare. I don’t know her real name since she’s got no collar, but I’ve started calling the cat Intruder, which I think is one of my finer works of art. Point is, I didn’t waste money, I’m simply providing for another member of the family._

_That entirely aside, I didn’t get to mention before that Abe came over back in October. It was around the anniversary of his dad’s passing and while he always seems happy with Anna and Mary and Rob, on his own he’s a disaster. It might’ve just been the occasion. I wouldn’t mention this at all, but you know him better than me, and I don’t always know what to say. I do want to help._

_Take care and good luck with the lack of sunlight. Make sure to get enough sleep. I love you._

_Ben_

* * *

Thanksgiving is somewhat terrible, as always. Ben loves his father but they don’t have much other family to celebrate with, so it’s usually just them. Besides, Nathaniel never really approved of Caleb, so it ends up being a lot of pretending that what his father said wasn’t as rude as it was and commiserating over dead relatives.

December dawns with its usual barrenness and festivity, the kids growing restless in the last two weeks before break. Ben goes to a holiday work party hosted by the arts faculty because Anna will be there, and by proxy he ends up talking to some of the English teachers. Turns out one of them knows his old college friend Nate, and he has a better time than he expected to.

Ben gives the students their final exam on the last Thursday they have class, and on Friday they vote on which of his box sets of historical dramas to watch and he spends the day with the projector on, letting everyone relax. They deserve it.

He hasn’t heard from Caleb at all since October, and he knows he shouldn’t be worried, but by Christmas week he has to stop himself checking his mail twice in the morning. Caleb probably _just_ got his last letter, he reasons. He won’t get anything until the new year. Maybe delivery is just slower than usual.

On Christmas Eve, he goes to Anna’s place with a small present and a bottle of wine. They’re doing a secret Santa like they do every year, because they’re all a little broke and still adjusting to life after college, so Ben leaves his gift on the kitchen table and presents Anna with the wine, accepting a hug from her and Abe.

“Merry Christmas,” Rob says as they enter the living room. Mary’s leaning on him with a glass of wine in hand and Ed is sitting somewhat stiffly in a chair next to the couch. Abi and Akinbode share the love seat opposite that and Abe and Anna settle next to Rob and Mary on the couch. Ben takes the chair next to Ed, awkwardly single and still kind of hating that he’s commiserating, however silently, with Hewlett.

There are the standard Christmas greetings, and then a timer goes off in the kitchen and Anna herds everyone around their too-small dining table, pulling up extra chairs from the closet in the front hall. Ben ends up squished between Abe and Mary, the bunch of them crowded about in folding and dining chairs alike, the table bristling with people.

They eat the dinner that Rob and Mary made and joke over the food and drink, enjoying the company of good friends.

“So Akinbode, how was Canada?” Anna asks.

“Good,” Akinbode returns, inclining his head. “Glad I came back when I did, though. It’s about to be a lot colder up there. Brewster’d know about that.” He glances at Ben, who nods.

“They’re grounded for a couple weeks but they’ll probably head back out after the new year.” Ben thinks about the absence of calls, of letters.

“You’ve heard from him, then?” Mary asks, curious. Ben had mentioned to Anna the loss of communication, and of course she’d told the others.

“No,” he admits. “That’s not unusual though, and he mentioned in October that they get a break for the worst of the winter.”

Akinbode nods reasonably, but Ben doesn’t miss the glance that Mary and Anna trade, and that Rob carefully avoids. The rest of dinner is a quiet affair until Abe stands and says, “Presents, then?” Mary nods and together they go to grab everything from the kitchen.

They go around the table giving the gifts, some accompanied by gratitude and some by “You absolute bastard!” When it gets to Abi she pushes her box across the table to Ben with a smile.

He takes it — a long, thin box wrapped with simple red paper. Meticulously, because he likes pissing Abe off, Ben unwraps the paper, careful not to rip anything. He looks up at Abe once he’s done, and predictably, he’s watching Ben with a flat, unimpressed look.

Abi got him a set of quills, complete with ink, sealing wax, and a stamp. Ben breaks out in a smile as he looks up at her. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” she says, smiling wider now. “I figured you write enough letters to be straight out of Jane Austen, so why not finish the aesthetic?”

Ben nods, chuckling. “Well thank you, Abi. I’m sure Caleb will be delighted to break open a real live wax seal. We write so many letters that I have no idea how he’s avoided it so far.”

Then it’s his turn. His present is a small square box, wrapped in black paper with a silver bow on top, which he tosses to Ed. Ed catches it confidently, with a bemused little smile. He pulls the bow off gently and removes the wrapping paper with a swift precision that leaves it mostly intact. Ben can only imagine the aneurysm Abe’s having right now.

Ed sets the box on the table, sitting back to scrutinize it. It must pass muster somehow, because he opens it to reveal a small enamel pin inlaid with silver lines that sketch out a constellation. A surprised smile tugs at his lips.

“Scorpius?” he asks, like he expected Ben’s present to be point-blank assassination instead of a pin.

Ben nods. “It’s an antique. Thought you might like that.”

Rob mutters something that might be, “Well that was shockingly tasteful,” but nobody really hears and Ed is too engrossed in the pin to notice. Ben smiles to himself. He didn’t even ask Anna for help with that one.

Finally it gets to Abe, who looks at Ben again and slides a parcel over to him. It’s wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, and is suspiciously lumpy. “For Caleb,” Abe says. “I know you can’t mail it but merry Christmas, right?”

Ben takes it with a nod. “Right. Thanks, Abe. I’ll let him know he’s got something waiting for him.” When he smiles it feels half-there but real.

He pays half a mind to the rest of the chatter as they migrate back towards the living room, his thoughts straying back to Caleb. Ben still hasn’t gotten a letter, a phone call, hell, a telegram to say he’s alright. Besides, he hasn’t gotten any letters since October, which — two months is a long time. _One year,_ he thinks bitterly. _One year is a long time._ It might just be the two glasses of wine he’s had or that he’s not looking forward to spending the next two weeks of winter break alone, but Ben feels a deep hollowness inflate in his chest, until it’s almost hard to breathe. He knows it’s just a symptom of the real problem — he misses Caleb like hell, like a part of himself is gone. Part of him, though, thinks it’ll never go away.

And then, just like a Christmas miracle, his phone rings. He checks the number, and suddenly his legs are carrying himself back to the kitchen as he says, lamely, “Sorry, I have to—” and he picks up.

There’s a moment of silence as he tries to figure out what he was going to say, and then he whispers, “Caleb,” stupidly hopeful, like a prayer.

“Ben,” says Caleb’s voice, brassy and quiet as he murmurs into the phone, matching Ben’s tone. Then he brightens: “How are you? Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” says Ben, feeling the holiday cheer for the first time that day. “I’m good. I’m… it’s good to hear your voice.”

“God, you don’t even know,” Caleb says, voice teasing, a little goading, but so earnest.

“Who is that?” asks an accented voice in the background.

“Your mother, Akik,” Caleb calls, turned away from the phone, irritation masked by good humor. “None a’ your business.” His voice comes back, grainy and immediate, “No sense of privacy, I tell ya.”

Ben breathes out a light laugh. “I guess.”

“I told you they started placing bets on who I’m writing to, right?”

Ben blinks. “No. You haven’t told them?”

He can almost picture Caleb’s shrug. “Nah. It’s never really been the right time, you know? Plus, it’s fun to keep ’em guessing.”

“Yeah,” Ben says, content for now not to poke at the issue. Leaning against the kitchen counter, he lets himself unwind a little, still thrilling at the sound of Caleb’s voice. “Is it already the twenty-fifth there?”

“Yeah,” Caleb says. “We’re in Nuuk for a while, so anyone who didn’t have family in town got together for a round of drinks tonight. I missed you, so.”

“I missed you, too,” Ben says. “Miss you, present tense. I was starting to worry that your ship had gone down or something.”

“Ah, yeah…” Caleb hesitates. “Sorry for the radio silence. Mail came in a couple weeks back, but I think it’s moving slower ’cause of the cold and the holidays. Plus, I had to wait ’til we got to Nuuk to send my response, so give it a week or two.” There’s a tense pause as Ben does the math in his head. After a beat too long, Caleb continues, unsure, “I probably should’ve called earlier or something.”

“No, it’s fine.” Ben scrubs a hand down his face, trying to rub away any trace of the melancholy that had gripped him earlier. “Just… I was being paranoid. I guess six months apart does that.” He tries to laugh it off, like he doesn’t really mean it. It comes off flat.

“Shit, six months? I guess…” Caleb’s quiet. “Yeah, six months. Shit, Tallboy.”

Ben laughs despite himself. “How many rounds did you say you had?”

“A Christmas amount.”

“Classy.” Ben’s smile lingers, dumb and in love. “Uh, about that. Abe got you a present. I can’t send it, of course. It’ll be here for you when you get home, next to Mary’s thing. And no, I won’t open it for you.”

“You know me so well,” Caleb says, and Ben can hear his wolfish grin.

“I know you drunk,” Ben says. “Caleb.” He means to continue but there’s a moment where they both pause, just hearing the name, and Ben thinks of another six months to go. Then he says again, “Caleb. Go back to your friends or go to sleep. Make sure you get home tonight.”

“You’re pawning me off on the crew?” Caleb’s voice is thin but happy.

“I’m saying merry Christmas and goodnight, and call me in the morning when you’re not drunk in public.” Ben waits for Caleb’s despondent affirmative. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” For a moment, there’s only the sound of Caleb’s soft, sharp breaths coming down the line. Then, “Did you know how long a year is?”

Ben pauses, slightly taken aback. “No,” he answers honestly. “I didn’t. Goodnight.”

“Night, Benny-boy.”

Anna’s smiling at him when he slinks back into the living room. “Caleb?” she asks.

Ben nods. “He’s alright. A little drunk.” _A little in love, a little embarrassing, a little missing me terribly._ “I guess that’s Christmas.”

“I guess it is,” Anna says.

“C’mon and sit,” says Abe, louder and happier, and so Ben does.

* * *

_December 23_

_Ben,_

_Merry Christmas and happy Thanksgiving! I’m glad everyone’s still getting along, even if everyone includes Simcoe now. That whole dinner sounds like a nightmare and I can’t believe I missed it. One of the worst parts of being away is missing out on all the shit they put each other through. It’s like missing your favorite soap opera every day for a year._

_Thanksgiving doesn’t really fly in Greenland, but they’re giving us a couple weeks off for Christmas and everyone who’s not going home is going out tomorrow to celebrate. Meanwhile I’ll find you something nice and Greenlandic like a sweater or maybe some cod. Ben, the cod. When we got in last night I had actual real beef stew and I swear to god I’ve never been so happy to eat something that’s not fish in my life. How long can you survive on cod alone? That’s another worst part._

_You can tell your kids THAT next time you have a trivia day, how cod is the bane of every sailor’s existence. By the way, helping you to impress a bunch of 15 year olds is the best thing I’ve done all year. I’m proud._

_And about Abe — you know how complicated his relationship with his dad was. He carries it with him that they never really resolved their issues before Richard died and I think he blames himself for that, even though you and I know old Woodhull was a right bastard. And you know Abe’s all about closure. Whenever he gets in that mood I just try to remind him he’s not alone since I kind of get what he means. By the time my dad started going he wasn’t really there. At least not there enough for me to tell him about you or that I was sober again or anything, so a lot of times I feel like I left him out of too much of my life. That’s probably not far off of where Abe is with the whole thing. He just needs someone to listen so the best thing you can do is just be there for him. Or get him talking about Rob or Anna or Mary because he lights up like a fucking Christmas tree, which is both very good for him and very funny to watch._

_I hope that helps. I hope you can help him._

_And I can’t fucking believe you actually bought food for Intruder. She’s not our cat Ben, no matter how much you want her to be. And I swear if you steal Mrs. Williams’ cat then we’re going to have a serious talk. Actually that might be the funniest thing you’ve ever written me but I really can’t believe I’ve been replaced by a cat._

_Merry Christmas again. I miss you. Take care of Abe while I’m gone, and yourself._

_Love,_

_Caleb_

_(P.S. If you’re really so worried about my leather jackets I can always stop wearin em :))_

* * *

Caleb makes good on his promise and calls almost every day until he sets out from Nuuk. Ben gets used to hearing his voice, sitting down after work with a glass of wine and Caleb talking about nothing in his ear.

One day Caleb says, “Did you know I think about that stupid cat every day?”

Ben bursts out laughing, drawing Intruder’s attention from the window sill where she’s settled herself. “I’m sure she misses you. You gave her better pets than me.”

“She’s not our cat, Ben,” Caleb insists.

“She can still miss you,” Ben says, and it sounds a little too genuine. Ben quiets, but he can hear Caleb snickering over the phone, so he doesn’t mention it.

Caleb ships out again a few days after New Year’s, and once he’s gone Ben finds himself noticing his absence more acutely than before. Hearing Caleb’s voice had been its own kind of comfort, and now Ben can’t help feeling lonely.

Classes start up again and by the end of his first week back Ben’s about ready to collapse. His schedule’s twice as manic this semester, having piled on an AP course that’s been condensed from three terms to two. He’s already worried about rushing lectures and assigning too much homework, and he can read the exasperation in his students’ eyes when he assigns them two chapters from the textbook for Monday. He can only hope they know he’s in the same boat, at least in terms of stress.

On top of it all, he still hasn’t gotten a reply from Caleb. It’s stupid how much he worries, wondering constantly where Caleb is, how he’s doing, who he’s with. Worried about how he’s miles away, hidden behind the uncertainty of a letter, and how Ben will never quite know in the moment if he’s okay. By Friday he’s worried himself into a heap, which is alright because when he gets home and checks his mail, there, tucked in amongst the ads and the bills, is a slightly crumpled white envelope with familiar messy handwriting scrawled across it.

By the time he’s done reading it he’s sunk deep into the couch, scanning over the lines one, twice, and again. He’s been doing that a lot lately, rereading letters. Some recent and some old, some even from college, back before they were dating and Caleb left for Canada with only the promise that he would write. Maybe it’s some deeply nostalgic part of him that makes him do it, or maybe it’s just the ugly part of him that he doesn’t like looking at: his soul aches with how much he misses Caleb.

He eventually sets the letter on the coffee table, then leans back again, considering. Twenty minutes and a text later, Abe knocks on his door with a smile and a four-pack in hand. Ben lets him in and goes to fill two glasses while Abe situates himself at the kitchen table, folding his hands on top of the wood.

“Good taste,” Ben says as he sits down, passing Abe his glass. “How are things?”

“Not bad,” Abe says, nodding to himself. “I’ve got a shitload of deadlines at work next week, but for now it’s pretty good. Rob and Mary just got an offer for upsizing the bed and breakfast, so they’re pretty happy. Somewhere downtown, closer to the water, you know.”

“Hey, good for them,” Ben says happily. “That’s been a long time coming. How long have they managed that place, three years?”

“Three years,” Abe confirms, raising an eyebrow. “You forget how long it’s been.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Well how’re you?” Abe asks eventually. “How’s Caleb?”

It seems all anyone asks him about these days is how Caleb is doing, halfway across the world and a letter away from him. “Good,” Ben says, because he loves to talk about him despite himself. “They just set off again last week and I just got his last letter today. I’ll have to write back soon. From what I hear it’s all good except the usual complaints — too much cod. You know.” He doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he finishes talking and it fades from his lips.

Abe looks at him for a long moment. “Why does he still leave?”

Ben blinks, surprised. “What?”

“You love each other so fucking much,” Abe says. “It’s painful to watch sometimes. Why does he still leave? What are you guys afraid of?” And that’s a little too close to the truth, Ben thinks. Abe’s always been shockingly observant.

“I…” He doesn’t know what to say. That Caleb loves his job, that he’s not really gone that often, that it’s worked out so far; all those answers seem suddenly so small. “I don’t know,” he says at last. “I think change. I think we’re afraid of change. I think we’re afraid it’ll change us.”

“Maybe that’s not so bad after all,” Abe offers, and Ben looks down at the table.

“Maybe not,” he agrees, after a moment.

He doesn’t say anything then because he’s stuck thinking about how much he misses Caleb, which is a lot, and how much he wants to say to Caleb, which is a lot also. Thankfully, Abe saves him by continuing, “About change, by the way.” There’s a small frown creasing his brow. “I’ve been thinking. Anna and Mary and Rob and I have all been together a while, and I know we’d have to look around for something big enough, but do you think they’d want to move in together?”

Ben lifts his head from where his eyes had been trained on the table, and his lips quirk into a smile. “You’re asking _me_ if they’d want to move in with you? You four, who have been together since before Caleb and I?”

Abe shrugs, and it’s the insecure look in his eyes that stops Ben from ribbing him further. Instead, he just smiles.

“Abe, I think we’re all more surprised that you _haven’t_ moved in together yet. Of course they’d want to.”

And Abe smiles then, too, even if he still looks unsure.

They’re on their second drink when Ben, wanting to get everything out of his head because it’s been stewing since Abe mentioned it, or maybe since June, admits, “I miss him so much sometimes. I keep thinking once he gets home I never want him to leave again.” He sighs. “But I think that every time.”

Abe shoots him a sideways glance, the face of someone who completely understands and is only sort of mocking him for it. “Then ask him to stay.”

And Ben says, “Maybe I will.”

* * *

_21 Jan._

_Caleb,_

_Don’t you dare stop wearing the jackets. By that I mean, you can stop wearing them to Thanksgiving all you want, but we both know that’s not really why my dad doesn’t like you. Besides, even if it was, I wouldn’t let you stop wearing them altogether. My father can deal with this one inconvenience. Also, I’m pretty sure by now you’ve grown on him, or at least he knows what to expect._

_Anyway, starting a new semester is always weird, but this year it feels weirder. I’m in AP hell now, and Anna keeps telling me that next year we should sign up to grade the exams together. I keep telling her that I’d actually rather die. Making sure the kids are prepared for them is stressful enough and I don’t think Abi can handle covering many more shifts for me. Besides, can you imagine grading THAT many papers on the effect of Reconstruction on racism and politics? I can barely handle my class’s essays as is._

_It’s good though. Anna’s right when she tells me all my bitching is just for show. I always forget how much I like teaching when I’m not right in it, but when classes start, well. You know how it is. These kids seem like a great group, too — they’re smart and a couple of them remind me of you. I’ll make sure to mention the cod next time we have trivia, which is coming up soon: the first exam’s on Friday. They’re all nervous about it but I know they’ll do fine._

_Intruder is sitting on my lap as I write this and I think she’s hungry. She keeps biting me. I considered asking Mrs. Williams what her real name is, but I think Intruder is probably more accurate than anything else. I wonder if a cat her age can learn a new name, or if she’ll just be confused for the rest of her life. I think I’m getting attached to her. It might’ve been a mistake to buy cat food. Then again, who else is going to scream outside my door when they get hungry at midnight?_

_By the way, I finally talked to Abe. Sort of. It seems weird to say because I’m so used to worrying about him, but I think he’s actually figuring his shit out. The others are definitely helping. I don’t know how much I’m actually supposed to say but I figure there’s not much you can do to ruin the surprise, so I can probably tell you. He’s going to ask Rob, Mary, and Anna to move in with him. He was worried about it but there’s no way they’ll say no. I told him we’re all just surprised that it didn’t happen sooner. Also, Rob and Mary are moving the B &B to a new building, closer to the harbor and everything. I’m happy for them. _

_It does make me think, though. I know we’re moved in together and everything but sometimes I start thinking about the future and I’m just not sure how to square both of our lives. And of course we both need to do what makes us happy but it’s just… hard. You know it’s hard being so far apart. I miss you more than I say. More than I tell you I do. I want you around. God, I’m getting morbid and I don’t even know what I’m trying to ask._

_Well I do, actually. I want you to stay with me. But I can’t ask you for that if it’s not what you want, and I know that. Is this too much? This is too much. We are absolutely too much, Caleb Brewster. Come home safe. I love you._

_Ben_

_(P.S. There’s a picture of Intruder in here for you. Just in case you forgot what our new child looks like.)_

* * *

_February 5,_

_Ben,_

_HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I think this’ll get to you around then. We’ll still be at sea but I’ll do my best to drink to your health. The others for sure won’t complain, even if they’re nosy. For now I hope the picture I’m sending of me and Leon will make you smile. It snowed that day (it’s been snowing a lot actually) and he kept making fun of me for being cold. Some things never change._

_And some things DO! Akik’s been holding out on us for months — yesterday we found out his first son was born a couple weeks ago! We had a little celebration and I let him win a few rounds of poker. Ben, when I tell you he’s gonna be a great dad. He thinks he might find a job outside of sailing so he can stay home with his wife. It’s all so domestic that people have stopped teasing me for once so they can make his life a living hell. A very friendly and jovial living hell that is._

_Speaking of, I hope that Abe’s asked them to move in by the time I’m writing this but tell him I’ll kick his ass if he doesn’t do it by the time I get home. They’ve practically been married since college so I don’t know what the hell he’s trying to pull here. I’m surprised they don’t have three kids and a dog yet honestly. And congrats to Rob and Mary on the upgrade! They deserve it._

_I really don’t think I’ll have to do that though. You’re right about Abe getting his shit together. Even before I left I could tell. He’s been squaring it with himself for a few years now and being surrounded by people who love him has done more than he probably knows. I sound like such a sap but it’s really nice to watch him be happy. It’s been awhile since he’s embraced that._

_It’s funny that Anna complains about her job all summer and then goes looking for all kinds of ways of extending it. That said please don’t grade AP tests. It’s like a third job and you’d be so stressed. Plus that’s right around when I come home and I swear if I get home and you aren’t here I’ll kick you out and shack up with Intruder. (Just kidding. But I miss you too.)_

_I don’t really know how to talk about everything else there. I guess hearing Akik talk about going home made me realize that I miss you every day. More than I thought I did. I miss being there with you, I miss waking up to you. I miss your cinnamon rolls. I don’t even know what I want anymore and I don’t know how it’ll work out either but I know I can’t keep missing you like this. I don’t know, Ben._

_Just take care until I get home. There’s only a few more months and then we’ll figure it out. God is that even good enough. I hope so._

_Love,_

_Caleb_

_(P.S. Intruder looks like a fucking demon there and Palo nearly lost his mind. Eventually I’ll have to explain to him that my boyfriend is a history nerd who adopts cats in his spare time and then I’ll never hear the end of it. Thanks for that.)_

* * *

Caleb does manage to sneak some wine on board the ship before they set off under the weak February sun. It’s started to rise again and it makes Caleb a little more chipper even with the few hours it stays up. He stashes the alcohol deep in his duffel and posts his letter for Ben, and contents himself again to the rocking of the waves.

They gather belowdecks a couple nights before Valentine’s Day, lamps lit against the still-thick winter darkness, cards scattered on the table before them, Caleb and Akik on the same team like always. Mads sits on his right this time, but Caleb is still reminded of another game of Canasta, a few months ago, and a slew of questions that Akik hadn’t yet learned would always go unanswered.

“Caleb,” he says, dead serious across the small table. Caleb looks back at him, unimpressed. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Caleb says.

Akik pauses to draw a card, then looks back at Caleb with a strange intensity. “My mother says it’s not her you’ve been calling. So either Palo is right and you’re under witness protection, or you have been lying to your friends this whole time.”

Akik puts on a heartbroken sort of face that is met with Caleb’s dry, “I’m going out,” as he lays down his cards and stands up.

“Really?” Mads asks, peering around him to eye the bunk Palo’s laid out on, trying not to be too obvious about listening to their conversation. Palo looks back for a moment before standing resignedly to take Caleb’s place.

“I have proof,” Akik says. “It’s on paper.” He gives an abortive sort of wave towards his bunk, where an envelope sits, open, on the cot.

“Really,” Caleb affirms, to Mads alone, and stretches out with Ben’s book.

“It’s almost Valentine’s,” Akik protests. “You have to tell us.”

Caleb looks at the three of them gathered around the table, plus poor Isaak stuck right in the middle, a little bit of an outsider to their group. He still knows them well enough to know that Caleb won’t answer, and that the questions aren’t out of the ordinary in the first place. Caleb feels bad for him, though, and considers offering to take his place just so he won’t be subject to the imaginative gossip circle that will undoubtedly start up once Caleb puts his mind to ignoring them.

“I’m writing to my cat,” he says, straight-faced. It’s only sort of a lie, the picture of Intruder serving now as a bookmark, tucked between his fingers as he reads. Only Palo reacts, laughing out loud while the others turn to look at him and Isaak smiles despite himself. Caleb thinks maybe he’s alright where he is, and starts to read in earnest, tuning them out.

Valentine’s Day is much the same, but as February stretches on Akik shifts his attention away from bugging Caleb and towards waxing lovingly about the tiny, red-faced bundle of joy that is his firstborn. He passes a picture around and Caleb lets Palo bully him into showing everyone the picture of Intruder, as though the two are comparable. Akik laughs out loud at that.

By the twenty-fifth, everything has mostly quieted down, the crew content to ride out the rest of the month until they get a little time onshore. It’s welcome, then, when Caleb quietly breaks out the wine he’d stowed and Palo happens to be passing by. Leon, Akik, and Mads eventually migrate over, each one pretending to be pleasantly surprised by the bottle as if it wasn’t what drew them in the first place. Caleb can appreciate their subtlety.

They’re a few drinks in when Leon asks, “Why the wine?”

Caleb looks at each of them in turn and lets out a long sigh. He’d thought about not telling them at all, about letting them tease him but allowing everything to just go unsaid, all the way until June, until they never see each other again. He knows Ben hates it when he talks like that. He thinks Ben mostly hates feeling like a secret, even to people he’s never met, and Caleb understands. Still, it would be easier and safer for Caleb to just let it lie, so he surprises himself when he admits, “It’s his birthday.”

Four faces stare at him for a moment, silent with a sort of surprise that’s not quite shocked, before Akik claps him on the shoulder. “Who you’ve been writing to this whole time?”

Caleb hesitates a moment before nodding, but they all seem more curious than angry or upset or any number of other things, so he does.

“And who you called at Christmas,” Leon puts in, one eyebrow raised and lips quirked into a smirk.

“And who I called at Christmas,” Caleb agrees. Something about him loosens, his shoulders lowering like hackles. “And the one who sends me terrible pictures of our cat.” He pauses. “Well, she’s not our cat. But it’s close enough. She belongs to the lady down the hall, who’s a million years old, so.”

At this point all four of them are laughing, and Caleb knows it’s at the expense of his nervous rambling but he really can’t bring himself to mind.

“So what’s his name?” Mads asks eventually. “Your…”

Caleb considers saying “husband” just to get back at Ben for that one time he accidentally let it slip to a waitress, but in the end he just says, “Boyfriend,” a little awkwardly. “It’s Ben.”

“Ben,” says Palo, nodding slowly. “Suits you. Very American.” And they all laugh again. Caleb feels something decompressing in his chest, some inflated anxiety that he didn’t realize had been building up since June, since Akik started asking about his letters. It’s a relief, and for once he lets them handle most of the wine themselves, feeling light enough already.

After the others all wander off to go to bed and Leon offers to dispose of the bottle, Akik and Caleb are left alone, facing each other over the Canasta table. Akik looks at him for a long moment, and then down at the table. He starts to gather the cards they’d left splayed out, abandoned. “I complained about you to my wife,” he says quietly.

“What?”

When Akik looks up, he’s smiling. “I did. I told her you never talked about yourself and would never answer my questions. She thought it was funny.”

“Well,” Caleb says, “I told Ben that you had no sense of boundaries or personal space.”

Akik laughs, hearty and wine-warmed. He sobers a little and leans forward. “She also said you had a good reason for not telling us. So I’m sorry if I…” He grimaces. “I’m sorry if I pushed you on it.”

Caleb studies him, a little perplexed. He’s never seen Akik apologize to anyone before. In the months they’ve worked together, Akik has been many things. A little stoic, a little proud, and more than a little incessant, but mostly, Caleb realizes, a good man. So he just shrugs. “If you hadn’t pushed I never woulda told you,” he says. Akik hands him the cards to shuffle, which Caleb appreciates. It gives him an excuse to look anywhere but Akik’s eyes. “I go through life knowing I’ll be safer if I never tell anyone the whole truth, if I hide the part of me that loves him from the rest of the world. Even if the rest of the world isn’t so bad after all. And sometimes it’s not so bad, and I need a little push to realize that.” He pauses, rests the organized deck on the table, and looks up. Akik is watching him solemnly but gratefully, so Caleb grins. “Still annoying as hell, though. Seriously, it’s been over six fuckin’ months, man!”

Akik’s smile is bright. “I am nothing if not dedicated.” Caleb gives him a wry look and Akik offers Caleb a hand. Caleb takes it, and Akik places his other hand on top, nodding at him. “He’s a lucky man.”

“Oh my god,” says Caleb, but he’s smiling so wide his teeth hurt. “You’re a sap.”

“You’re just now realizing?” Akik shoots back as he turns to head off to his bunk. “Goodnight, Brewster.”

“Night, Akik,” Caleb says, and then, “Hey.”

Akik turns.

Caleb takes a breath and purses his lips. Some things are easier to ask for than others. “I know I just said a bunch of emotional shit about being myself and everything, but —” he breaks off, feeling ashamed already, but Akik just nods.

“It stays between us,” he says, and his tone is nothing but soft, even when he laughs. “I can’t promise that Palo won’t get drunk and start singing shanties, though.”

“Thanks,” Caleb says, after a pause. Akik nods and turns to leave, and Caleb just lays back on his bunk, feeling something stupid wash over him, like affection or joy.

* * *

_2 Mar._

_Caleb,_

_He asked! Don’t worry, I’m allowed to tell you now — it’s official and everything. The house is stupidly cute, but I guess that’s what you get in a four-person household. He’ll want to show you once you get back and I think you’ll like it. Mostly I think we’re all just happy for them. Abe’s stupid pleased about it still and I keep telling him he’s the world’s biggest dumbass for being surprised._

_And congratulations to Akik! Busybody that he is. Don’t tell him I said that. I’m happy for him, and I’m happy that you guys had something to celebrate. I do think it’s at least a little funny that he keeps giving you all this shit but he’s the one to take the heat off you for once. But then I’m also beginning to suspect you like each other a little more than you’re letting on._

_Spring’s coming around here finally, which is great except that they’re starting construction on that building in earnest. It’s mostly fine during the week considering I’m never home when they’re working, but Saturdays are rapidly becoming my least favorite days. It’s really a shame. Whatever, anything to be rid of that stucco, am I right?_

_But I don’t think that’s really what I’m upset about. Abi says I’m bitching too much, which is a sign that I need to write to you, so. Here I am. I’ve been thinking about it, and it’s really not that I don’t like our apartment, you know? It’s ours, and we’ve lived here forever, and there’s no world in which I want to move to the suburbs like Abe and Mary and Anna and Rob. But it’s noisy and small and I love Intruder but Mrs. Williams is an actual nightmare when she gets talking about anything, and it’s all worth it when you’re here because it’s ours. But I keep thinking that you’re gone more often than you’re not._

_And I think that’s it. Not that I want to sell the apartment or move or anything. I just think I’m unhappy when you’re not here. That probably should’ve been a given, but again. I’ve been thinking about how to say it without making either of us feel terrible about it, and this is what I’ve got. I miss you and I’m not happy without you. I hope it’s warming up where you are. I love you._

_Ben_

* * *

Ben keeps thinking about his letter as March drifts by, warm and cold and warm again as the first weak breaths of spring begin to come. He wasn’t wrong to send it, he’s pretty sure, because he meant every word and, frankly, it needed to be said. But they’ve gone years existing the way they do, apart and together and apart again. Warm and cold.

“I’ve been afraid of tying him down for so long,” he confesses to Anna during their housewarming party, sprawled out on the couch two beers in while she folds herself neatly into an armchair.

Anna just laughs. She’s been drinking wine, and she’s giggly with it. “That boy needs to be tied down. He’s gonna keep drifting forever if you don’t tell him it’s okay for him to stay.”

Ben squints. “If _I_ don’t tell him it’s okay?”

“Don’t be an ass,” she chides, then doesn’t say anything else.

“It’s just… we’ve worked for all this time,” Ben mumbles. And they have. They’ve even been happy. “Because he loves his job and I love him and — shut up, stop laughing — and we don’t have to be attached at the hip like _some_ people.”

“This is _my_ housewarming party and I can kick you out,” Anna says.

“I’m mostly here for Rob anyway.”

Anna levels him with a look. “You’re an idiot.”

Ben just shrugs. “Not the point.”

They’re quiet for a while, listening to the sounds of Abe and Rob bickering gently in the kitchen. Everyone else has either drifted out to the yard or the dining room with the massive table of appetizers. It’s fuzzy and domestic in a way that makes Ben feel warm and happy for the life his friends have managed to create.

“Thing is,” Anna starts, nudging him with a foot until he sits up to look at her properly. It seems right. There’s a gravity in the room, Anna’s fingernails tapping rhythmically at her wine glass. “You’re both thinking the same thing, you know? You’re basically the same person at this point.”

Ben has to laugh at that, and Anna, graciously, gives him a moment.

“I’m serious. You both think that changing anything will ruin everything, but this clearly isn’t working. It might have before, but it’s not now. And if he can’t compromise to make you happy, then why are you giving up so much for him?”

“Because this is his career,” Ben says, without hesitation. “He’s not asking me to give up my livelihood.”

“Ben,” Anna says, slowly like she’s thinking, or like he’s missing something huge. “You’re —” and she breaks off, sipping her wine in silence. Ben lets it sit. He really doesn’t have anything else to say.

“Okay,” she picks up again, sure. “I don’t want to be the one to tell you this because it’s not something you should have to be told, but you and Caleb don’t… you don’t get individual livelihoods anymore.” Ben blinks, and Anna heaves a sigh. “Look, you’re pretty much married already. You’ve been together since literally college. And you both act like you’re going to spend the rest of your lives together. What’s his is yours and all that.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just — it’s what he loves. It’s his life.”

“And it’s your life, too,” Anna says, not without sympathy. She looks grave, though. “And you’re not happy with it. He deserves to know. I refuse to watch my friends go through life unhappy if I can help it.”

Ben stares into his empty beer bottle for a long time. Anna doesn’t push him, just finishes her wine and sets it on the coffee table with a soft clink. It’s not that he’d never thought about their shared life, it’s just that he’d never — well. He’d never thought about marrying Caleb, not in so many words. He’d always just assumed they’d be together forever, and they’d both end up happy eventually. It’s how they work. But now that he’s thinking about it, it’s definitely a thought he’s prepared to have.

“And anyway, he loves you, too. It’s not tying him down if he wants to be with you.” Anna smiles at him as she stands, reaching a hand out for his bottle. “At least give him the option.” 

She leaves the room and Ben stays on the couch until Abe pokes his head into the room and demands his tie-breaking vote in the kitchen. No, he’d never thought about marrying Caleb, but now that he thinks about it, it’s really not such a daunting thought after all.

On the first of April, Ben opens his mailbox to the usual heaping of bills and a messy, inked-out postcard. On the front glows the soft, snowy landscape of a nondescript fishing village labeled _Ilulissat._ Ben stands in the middle of the mail room and reads the back, first their address in Caleb’s chicken scratch, and then the large _I think I’ve been trying not to miss you. See you soon._ that spans the sparse, narrow lines reserved for the message.

That’s not all. Around the message are messy additions, spiraling out to the edge of the card and spilling over, cutting off. It’s like Caleb really only meant to write the first bit, then thought better of it, hunched over the counter at the post office and scrawling out everything else he didn’t have the room to say. The thought makes Ben’s chest feel tight and unbearably fond, and for a moment he thinks he’s going to lose it right there in the cramped mail room in front of God and all his neighbors.

 _Sorry,_ Caleb has written. _This is stupid. But you have all those postcards already and we’re almost there. I told Akik and Palo and the others about you on your birthday and I’m really happy about it. Akik said he was sorry for being pushy but I’m really kind of glad he was. I know you hate it when I don’t tell people and I get feeling like a secret. But I didn’t have to worry after all, eh? It made me miss you more though. That’s why I wrote_ and then there’s an arrow pointing back to the original message, and Caleb’s run out of space. And that’s it.

Ben does not cry in the mail room. He goes upstairs and drops the rest of the mail on the kitchen table, then heads to the bedroom and digs a sort of squashed shoebox out from the closet. He opens it sitting on the floor of their room, box perched in his lap. Piled inside are half a dozen postcards, each from different places Caleb’s been, and half a dozen unopened envelopes, including the one Caleb had pressed into his hand back in June.

He feels a little guilty about those ones. They’ve been doing this long enough that they have their traditions down by now. Caleb gives him a letter when he leaves and says, “Save it for a rainy day,” and Ben makes sure his days are never rainy enough to need it. A symbol of perseverance, maybe. An unopened envelope, another sign that he really can handle this.

Ben lifts out the oldest postcard, scans over the brightly colored Nuuk shoreline. On the back there’s a couple lines about the strangeness of the midnight sun, and nothing else. Three months and home, and Ben had lived with only a couple lines. He finds himself unspeakably grateful for the blacked-out borders of Ilulissat.

He carefully tucks the old postcard back at the bottom of the box and sets the newest on top after reading through everything once more. The lid goes back on the box and the box goes back in the closet, and Ben thinks about what he can say to any of that.

Palm Sunday passes by harmlessly, but when Easter rolls around Ben’s still feeling guilty enough about the stiltedness of Thanksgiving and the fact that he spent Christmas Eve at Abe’s instead of with his parents that he wakes up at eight on a Sunday and goes to church. It’s fine, and afterwards he calls his father.

“Hello?” Nathaniel answers, and Ben sort of chokes for a moment. “Ben?”

That’s enough to jar him, for some reason. Thank God for caller ID. “Yeah,” Ben says, voice shaky. “Sorry. Hi, Dad, happy Easter.”

“Happy Easter,” says Nathaniel, sounding mildly surprised.

“How are you?” Ben tries to relax back into his couch, but instead sort of lays stiffly back on the cushions.

Nathaniel makes a sound down the line. “Fine. It’s a fine day, anyhow. The sermon was about new life, which you probably could’ve told me.”

“Yeah, ah,” says Ben, then realizes that saying he went to church would make him sound like a tool. So he does the next best thing, and goes for broke. “Regeneration and all that, right? Second chances.”

“Second chances,” Nathaniel agrees, but Ben can hear his father’s narrowed eyes down the line.

“Listen,” he says, after a breath. “I really only wanted to call and see how you were doing. We haven’t… talked, really. In a while.”

“It is good to hear from you,” his father admits. And then, gruffly, shockingly, “I know I don’t do all too well reaching out, either.”

Ben’s thrown for a moment, but he just lets out a helpless breath of a laugh. “No, don’t worry about it, Dad. I’m — yeah.” There’s a pause, and when it becomes clear Nathaniel isn’t about to carry it anywhere, Ben pushes on, “Look, I’ve just been thinking. What — how would you feel if I asked Caleb to marry me?” Because it’s unavoidable, and he’s been thinking about it since Anna said it, and it’s always better if Nathaniel knows what’s coming.

They’re both silent for longer than is probably appropriate, but it’s always sort of been this way. “Ben,” says Nathaniel eventually, chiding.

“Dad,” says Ben, cutting him off. “He’ll be home in a couple months and we’ve been talking and, well — I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going to happen, or for sure if he’ll stay, but…” They’re quiet again. Ben takes a deep breath. “But I think he will. And I want to ask.”

“Just,” starts Nathaniel, and he sounds ready to dig in and stay there. And then he says, “Ben, are you sure?”

Ben doesn’t even have to think about it. “More than anything.”

“I just want you to be happy,” Nathaniel says, strained but genuine. Ben’s feeling that tightness in his chest again, and he swallows heavily to push it back down. “That’s all. If you think he could stay, then…”

He doesn’t ever finish, but Ben gets what he means. When he hangs up, he lets himself cry into the couch cushions.

* * *

_5 Apr._

_Caleb,_

_It’s stupid and probably way too early, but I’ve started counting down the days until you’re home. Your postcard made me think that I’ve probably been trying not to miss you either, or at least to hide it from you when I can. It’s harder when you call, obviously. And harder now that I’m really thinking about how close you are to coming home. I get the feeling that these last few letters are probably going to sound significantly more desolate._

_I’m stressed, too, which never makes anything easier. Only a month until AP tests, and then a month after that until finals. It all seems so surreal, and I’m not even the one taking any of these tests. I know I’ve said that to you before. It really does make me feel like the year’s flown by, though, even if every time I think about you it feels like it’s crawling. It is good to think that if I count that way, it’s really not all that long until you’re back._

_I have spared some time to be happy for you, though! I’m glad you told everyone, and I’m glad it went well. I do have to say, I don’t really feel like a secret either way. I’ve never met these guys, and there’s a slim chance I ever will. I just hate the idea of you feeling trapped with a secret out there. Spending a year with people and not telling them something that big can be a lot, and I never want you to feel that kind of pressure. Tell Akik I said thank you, and I want you to know that I’m proud of you. It sounds like you’re having a good time._

_I still can’t wait for you to be home, though. I went through some old letters the other day and it made me realize just how long we’ve been doing this. Did I ever tell you that I don’t open your rainy day letters? They’re in a shoebox in the closet, and I can’t remember if you know that. Looking at them I almost wanted to read one, just to see. We’ve both grown up a lot, Caleb. And I’m happy that I got to do it with you. Anyway, be safe out there. 73 more days._

_Ben_

* * *

The midnight sun returns as April draws to a close, bright, reflective, and cold. They’re making their last pass up towards the Davis Strait before drifting south for the season, making arrangements and trawling before everyone eventually disembarks in June. It’s enough to make anyone introspective, and Caleb finds himself thinking about how he’ll miss this, the sea wind biting his skin ragged, Palo’s sun-wrinkled smile.

The last of the ice breaks up as they head north, and Caleb is watching a passing chunk dissolve slowly into the choppy water with Leon when Akik drops down next to them.

“Do you ever do anything around here?” he asks, flicking an unimpressed hand at Caleb. “Or do you just sit around and gossip?”

Caleb snorts. “Who said anything about gossip? What’s the ice got to tell us, eh, Leon?”

Leon doesn’t bite, turning instead to cast a broad glance at the open water over the gunwale. He says something in Danish that makes Akik snort, but he doesn’t translate, which suits Caleb fine. He’s gotten a little better in the year that he’s been here, but Leon talks like he’s got marbles in his mouth, anyway. Even Palo says he’s impossible to understand, so Caleb usually doesn’t bother.

“Just thinking about summer,” admits Caleb, which is true. He and Leon hadn’t been talking about it, but it’s crossed his mind a lot ever since the sun rose again for good. Privately, he’s thinking about Ben’s letter, about what comes next, now that it’s out in the open like that.

Akik considers this for a breath, hands folded serenely in his lap. “Any plans?”

Caleb doesn’t have a good answer to that. There’s the obvious — he’s going home and he’s going to hold Ben and not let him go. There’s also the half-unspoken admission between them, a sort of agreement that once Caleb’s home, he might not leave again. But he doesn’t want to say that to Akik, and he certainly doesn’t want to admit any of it in broad daylight abovedecks.

When he’s quiet for too long, Leon cuts in, “I’m going to Europe with my fiancée.” When Caleb shoots him a look, surprised, he continues, “We planned since the summer. Get home from Europe, get married.”

Akik’s beaming. “Lucky man! Congratulations.”

“Aren’t you doing it a little backwards?” Caleb puts in, just to be a dick. “S’posed to be married before the honeymoon.”

Leon laughs derisively. “Stupid. Ask boyfriend to marry you if you want to be the expert.”

While Caleb’s tripping over his response to that, Akik says, “I’m going to spend the whole summer with my son and stay there.” It’s not a surprise, necessarily, because Akik’s been talking about retiring ever since he showed them those first pictures of his kid. Caleb still kind of stalls out though, thinking about it.

“You decided?” Leon asks.

Akik nods. “Yeah. Not just about me, now.”

“Good for you, man,” Caleb says. He’s smiling, and he means it, but he knows it comes off distant. It’s not just about Caleb anymore, either, with Ben waiting for him at home. He’s not sure what to do about that, except he sort of is.

Akik looks at him sharply. “What, you’re thinking about retiring too? You’re just a baby.”

Caleb feels like laughing, but he doesn’t. He knows it wouldn’t do anything to deflect. Still, he chews his lip before saying, “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s just hard to be apart like this, y’know? We both want me home. And I did go to college, I could get a job.”

“They let you go to college?” Akik asks, voice warm.

Caleb says, “Ha ha,” not a laugh, and Akik rolls his eyes.

In the ensuing silence, Leon nudges Caleb’s elbow with his own. “It’s good,” he says seriously. “Good to be together. To want to be together.”

“Yeah,” Caleb agrees, nudging back. “And congrats. It’s good for you, too.”

And now that he’s thinking about it, it definitely is. He’s not sure what Ben expects from him when they get home, but every time he thinks about the letter, he aches. _I’m unhappy_ had cut deep, the thought that Caleb could’ve made him feel that way. Even if Ben had seemed willing to put up with it, before all this.

He’s not sure what Ben expects from him, but Caleb knows what he’s willing to give.

* * *

_May 10,_

_Ben,_

_Guess this’ll be the last letter I send before I get back. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I think it’s best if I just come out and say it. I don’t know what you want, but I think I want to stay home after this. We were talking about our plans for when we get home and Akik told us he’s retiring to spend time with his son and it just made me think. I don’t know if I’m unhappy when you’re not with me, but I know I’m not as happy as I am when you are. That counts for a lot._

_I know it’s a lot but I just wanted to tell you before I got back. I think we deserve to know that about each other. I love you and I want to be with you all the time. I thought you knew that before but I’m sure you do now._

_By the time you get this, it’ll probably be finals. It’s super weird how time feels different depending on how you think about it — I think about how we’re heading back down south once we’re done up here and that seems like a blink, but then I think about seeing you again and it seems like ages away. Anyway, good luck! You’re a good teacher and your kids love you. Everything’s gonna work out._

_It’s only 38 days until I see you now, which feels like nothing at this point. It’s been such a long year, Ben. 38 days is nothing. I started counting when I got your letter, and I think Akik’s dad instincts are kicking in because he keeps giving me looks when he catches me tallying shit. Like he has any room to talk. He keeps track of how old his kid is in days. IN DAYS. I think that’s pretty much the same, or maybe worse._

_Whatever, that’s just a month. That’s barely anything. I knew you didn’t read the letters, by the way, but not because you told me. You just never sent me anything about them and I saw the box in the closet a few times. I figured if you read them you’d have something to say about it, haha. Don’t worry though it’s nothing important. Just sappy. You don’t have to read them now or anything. I’m pretty sure everything comes out in these letters anyway and you actually read these._

_Anyway, Ben. It’s been a long time. A LONG time. I like to think we’ve got pretty fuckin good at writing letters. I know I’ve gotten better at least and you probably appreciate that. It’s cause we’ve gotten a lot of practice though. And I’ve gotta say, I’m looking forward to not having to practice anymore. Honestly I hope this is the last letter I ever have to write you. I guess this is how I say I’m ready to have a life together more than we already do._

_I miss you and I love you. I’ll see you soon and I can’t wait to not write._

_Love,_

_Caleb_

* * *

They get into Nuuk on June fifteenth, the day before Caleb flies out. It’s going to be a long day and a half of travel, one that Caleb really doesn’t want to go through hungover, but he lets Mads bully him into going out, because he’s feeling sentimental. Despite everything, it’s been a good year. Caleb doesn’t often think he’ll miss the crews he works with, but this parting feels bittersweet.

They go to the same bar they went to at Christmas, and Caleb huffs a laugh when Akik nudges him in the direction of the payphone. He doesn’t need to call Ben — he’ll see him in a day, and anyway, he picked up a letter from the post office when they first docked — but he gives Akik a smile all the same.

Palo deigns to buy the first round, mostly because Leon brings up his fiancée, Akik his son, and Caleb reminds him who brought the wine after Valentine’s. Mads says, “I fed you this whole fucking year, basically.” So Palo gets it.

While he’s up, Akik casts a glance around the table and says, “What a year, eh?”

Caleb laughs at that. “Eh? I’m rubbing off on you.”

“Gotta take some part of you with me,” Akik says. “Dirty American.”

They all laugh, and then Palo’s back with drinks. They’re all quiet for a moment, and then Leon says, “Was a good year, though.”

There’s a chorus of _yeahs,_ and then more silence. None of them seem to know what to say, or how to say whatever they’re thinking. It’s hard to encompass an entire year in a few words. It’s hard to know what they mean to each other, harder still to say it out loud.

Caleb is used to long years. He’s used to unfamiliarity, bonding through circumstance rather than similarity. He’s used to belonging in two places at once, to his friends and his crew. His work and his life. It’s been weird, this year, how lines got blurred. He’s not sure it’s been bad. And saying any of that out loud seems impossible.

“Here’s to not being in witness protection,” is what he eventually decides on, lifting his drink.

Palo laughs the loudest. “I really thought about that one.”

“Almost convinced me,” says Mads.

“Shut up, Jesus,” says Caleb, but he’s grinning.

Akik holds up a hand, eyes twinkling. “We are glad you’re not in witness protection,” he says. “And we’re glad you told us about Ben.”

Caleb can feel himself flushing, which is embarrassing. He’s just happy, and thinking about seeing Ben again, and it’s all… good. Being able to talk about it with them, the fact that they know Ben’s name. It’s new and good. “Me too,” he says.

“I’m glad Akik shut up about it now,” Leon says, lightly. “Annoying as hell. Now he just talks about kid.”

It makes Caleb laugh, makes Akik slug Leon in the shoulder. “Come on, you wanted to know too!”

And Caleb feels so, so warm. Sitting in a bar surrounded by people who might be friends, people who he feels comfortable with, at the very least — it’s been a long ass year, yeah. But he thinks, if there’s any better way to spend his last season on the water, he can’t think of it. He waits until the rest of them quiet down before he says, “I’m retiring.”

It’s dead silent for a moment, and then Palo nudges his hand. “You’re so young.” It’s kind of a question.

“Yeah,” says Caleb. “But I think I’m ready to be done. I’m gonna go back to work in the states, though.”

“Oh.”

It’s quiet again, and then Akik laughs, big and booming. “He doesn’t want to say that he’s going back to play house with his boyfriend. Fiancé? Boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend,” Caleb agrees, and then they’re all laughing again. He can tell when he’s being made fun of. “Whatever. Akik’s retiring to be a stay-at-home dad, that’s gotta be worse.”

“At least he’s married, though,” says Mads.

Caleb doesn’t have a response to that, so he just takes a long drink and ignores the pointed chuckling.

“Hey,” Mads says, when he’s done. Caleb shoots him a weak glare. “I’m happy for you. You’re happy with him, and I’m happy for you.”

Caleb blinks. He’s not sure why he keeps expecting their support to be conditional. It doesn’t matter, though, not when he can’t stop himself from beaming back. “Thanks.”

They stay for a few more rounds. Palo is apparently going to Denmark after this is done, staying there for a week and then coming back to catch his next job. Mads’ wife’s family is throwing him a party when he gets back, and he smiles soft when he talks about it.

Caleb is always surprised by just how comfortable he is with them, how much they’re willing to trust each other with. Months ago, he would never have imagined showing a coworker that kind of vulnerability. His chest feels tight when he thinks about leaving them, and then he thinks about seeing Ben again, and it feels warm. He’s contradictory, but for the night, that’s fine.

They call it quits after the fourth round, all tipsy and already regretting their travel plans the next day. As they walk from the bar back to their respective hotels, Akik bumps into Caleb’s side.

“You’re flying out tomorrow morning?”

Caleb nods, bumps back. “Bright and early. Wanna get home as soon as possible.”

Akik hums. “Been long enough?”

“Too long,” says Caleb, and they lapse into silence. The group drops off slowly, taking side streets or stopping in front of hostels. When they reach Caleb’s hotel, it’s just him and Akik left. He thinks of his first day here, thinks of all the days in between.

“Be good,” Akik says, taking Caleb’s shoulders and shaking him a bit.

“You be good,” Caleb replies. “You’re gonna be a great dad. I told Ben that.”

Akik grins. “You’re drunk.”

Caleb shrugs. “Yeah. But you will be.”

“I know.” And then Akik pulls him into a hug, fierce and bracing. “You’re a good man, Brewster. Ben’s lucky to have you.”

Caleb smiles, gently patting Akik’s shoulders. “I’m lucky to have him. But I’ll tell him you said that.”

“I mean it,” says Akik, pulling back to hold Caleb at arm’s length. He’s so sincere, believes it so genuinely. It makes Caleb feel so irrationally fond, makes the quiet ache in his chest expand to his fingertips.

“I know.” Caleb smiles, and he can tell he’s getting weepy. “Thank you.”

Akik pulls him into another hug, and when he releases Caleb, he steps back. Caleb thinks they’ve probably both exhausted their emotional vulnerability for the day. Akik takes another step back, and raises a hand. _“Farvel,”_ he says.

“Shut the fuck up,” Caleb says, and they both laugh. He watches Akik turn and walk away, and once he’s been swallowed up by shadows, Caleb goes inside.

* * *

_27 May_

_Caleb,_

_I love you and I want to be with you, too. I’m so anxious to see you again I’m not sure what else I want to write. All I can think about is seeing you again, telling you that in person. I want you here. I want you to stay. Please come home._

_There’s only a couple weeks left until you’re here, and I know you said it was just a month, but I’m so ready for you to be here now. I’m busy with finals, but you’re all I can think about aside from that. I think I’m just going to be repeating myself, probably, so I’ll just say everything I have to say now:_

_I didn’t read the letters, but you can tell me about them yourself soon. I’m still counting down the days, and I’m glad that you are, too. And yeah, it’s been a long time. It’s been a lot of letters, and I’m ready for it to be done. I’m ready for you to be home, and to stay home. I miss you more than I’ve ever said._

_You’ll get this right before you fly back, and I don’t know what else there is to say that I can’t tell you in person. I think I should cut myself off before I just start writing the same things over and over._

_I love you, Caleb, and I’m glad to have you with me. I’m always glad to be with you. I’ve been so lucky this year. With you and everything else. I’m ready to have a life with you in it, always. I’ll be rereading your letters until then. See you soon._

_Ben_

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! feel free to drop by my [tumblr](https://townhulls.tumblr.com/) if you liked this! i will admit that i've been posting a lot of hockey recently, but turn is and always will be my lifeblood.


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